


come back and look for me (look for me when i’m lost)

by delorange



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, anyways burke has a wife but cristina’s already in love, let’s say it’s open to interpretation, no happy ending, sorta based on meredith and derek’s relationship, specifically a scene 2x09 i think?, well actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:08:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24326305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delorange/pseuds/delorange
Summary: cristina’s in love, but it doesn’t matter anyway
Relationships: Preston Burke/Cristina Yang
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	come back and look for me (look for me when i’m lost)

**Author's Note:**

> wow okay this is my favourite thing i’ve ever written and this pairing is everything in theory (just let me ignore the fact that they didn’t work out in practice? thanks) hope my late night was worth it even tho it turned out to be like 3 words long wtf, anyways enjoy x
> 
> ps. title’s from a whisper by coldplay!

_"Do you love her?"_

It's the kind of sentence a person only dares to utter when they are totally, completely desperate, when they're clutching on dangerously tight to something that might not even be there. Tears might be brimming in their eyes. Hands might be fidgeting in front of them. Their voice might crack, maybe on the final word. 

It's the kind of sentence Cristina has ridiculed many, many times before, and will definitely ridicule many, many times after.

When she herself utters it, all she can hear in her voice is total, complete exhaustion. 

No brimming tears, no fidgeting hands, no voice crack. Almost as if she doesn't care about the answer. 

Except she does. She cares far too much and she knows it, but she doesn't quite know why. He already chose her. He didn't sign the divorce papers, she's moving to Seattle. Why does she care?

For once, she doesn't know the answer. 

He stops and turns around. Seats himself back beside her. She can feel his tension and supposes she should feel the same; instead, only a strange sense of calm. 

The return of his presence, at first, comforts her, and she hates her mind for betraying her like that, but it quickly sorts itself out and she's left with a crippling fatigue that even medicine can't fix. 

She can't take it. She spends every waking moment exhausted. She's so, so tired of seeing him, working with him, thinking about him. Loving him. 

Every moment of silence is torture, so she handles it in the only way she knows. 

She scoffs. "God, all I need is a yes or no. Spare me the essay."

He won't meet her eyes. They're trained firmly on the gravel beneath them. He shakes his head. "Will an 'I don't know' suffice?"

No, no it won't, she thinks. If you don't know, tough. That's the way she works. Don't know the place? You miss the party. Don't know an answer? You miss out on the surgery. Don't know what you want? You'll never get it.

Simple, in theory. A lot harder in practise. 

His head lifts, and they lock eyes. 

The last time she cried was when she lost her baby. Even then, it wasn't just that. Little things, all just building up inside of her until they exploded out, volatile and uncontrollable like a nuclear bomb. Terrifying. 

But then he was there. "She doesn't want to be touched," her mom had said, and she was absolutely right. She'd wanted him to leave, forget he'd seen her in the state she was in and never mention it again. Or, that's what she thought she'd wanted. When he wrapped his arms around her, pulled her into his chest like she was cherished, special, loved, she realised: she never wanted him to let go. 

This time she cries, all it takes is a mere question to open the floodgates, literally and metaphorically. All the pent-up distress, anger, frustration and fear courses through her body all at once, and she shakes as the tears stream down her face.

The sound in her own ears is raw and painful, yet he takes her against his chest once again. He strokes her hair, pressing kisses to her mess of curls, and if she wasn't so distraught she would hate him for it, but she would take every home comfort she could until her rational thoughts became loud enough for her to listen to. 

When she detangles herself from him a few minutes later, the loss feels far greater than a physical one. He opens his mouth to speak, but the tears are still falling so she leaves before he can. At least then it feels like it was her decision.


End file.
